These two old
cow punchers had given the boys the run of their wardrobes. Each lad
carried an automatic at his hip swinging from a well-filled cartridge
belt. In addition, Jack bore his repeating rifle in a leather scabbard
on his saddle.
Frank cast an appraising eye over himself and his comrades, and
grinned with approval. Despite Jack's rebuke, he could not long keep
silence.
"Well, here we go, fellows," he said cheerfully, "just like the Three
Musketeers. Jack with your air of melancholy you can be Athos. Bob is
big enough to be Porthos, although I have got his appetite. I'm
Aramis."
"Aramis was always dreaming about the ladies," said Bob slily. "Heard
from Della lately?"
Frank was silent a moment under the sly dig, his thoughts flying back
to the faraway Long Island home. But his irrepressible spirits would
not permit him to remain silent for long, and soon he burst forth
again.
"All we need to make it complete," he said, "is D'Artagnan. I wonder
if we'll find him."
Jack made no answer. His thoughts were busy turning over plans for the
rescue of his father. Bob, too, was unusually silent, thinking of the
parting from his own father and the latter's anxiety which almost had
prevented his making this venture.
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